Picasso Visits Chicago, by Greg Constantine (Chicago Review Press, $12.95). As he did in ``Vincent Van Gogh Visits New York`` and ``Leonardo Visits Los Angeles,`` Constantine treats us to an acutely imagined tour of a great city replete with sly and witty references to well-known works of art. This time it is Picasso, and there seems no doubt in Constantine`s mind what Chicago`s best known sculpture, the Civic Center Picasso, is supposed to be:

an Afgan hound. The dead-ringer dog appears with Picasso in several situations, including a visit to Michigan Avenue, scene of the book`s best pun, ``Dude Descending the Staircase at Water Tower Place.`` On the marquee of the Chicago Theater ``Picasso: The Movie`` is playing. In ``Big Dada at the Museum of Temporary Art,`` Picasso nails signs on a number of exhibits: ``This is NOT a guard`` on Hanson`s ``Leaning Museum Guard,`` ``This is NOT a Schwinn on Duchamp`s ``Bicycle Wheel`` and ``This is NOT art`` on Neiman`s ``Slalom Skier.`` There`s a surprise and often a giggle on every page.

The Writer as Celebrity, by Maralyn Lois Polak (M. Evans, $9.95). In 11 years of interviewing celebrities for the Philadelphia Inquirer Sunday Magazine, Polak has talked to a lot of writers, 45 of whom are represented here, in a book that moves so fast, no matter who`s talking, that suddenly you realize you`re half way through it and haven`t been bored for a moment. The writers Polak interviewed deserve some of the credit for that, but the pace never slackens, not even when she`s confronted with someone who doesn`t want to talk and says little. The late S.J. Perelman, whom she interviewed in 1975, and Andy Warhol are two examples. Polak takes them from one topic to another, as if groping for an angle, but she keeps you reading. When she gets an eager talker, such as Germaine Greer or Marilyn French, the interviews tend to rest on one subject--in those cases the men in their lives. Jerzy Kosinski, always a fascinating talker, here holds forth on a new topic, and a strange one indeed: How normal he is. Read this book not for its insights into the writer`s art but for the fun of eavesdropping on some delightful conversation. True Crime, by Max Allan Collins (St. Martin`s, Tor, $4.95). Private eye Nathan Heller is back in the thick of 1930s gangland Chicago, its streets running red with blood. In reviewing the hardcover, The Tribune`s Alice Cromie wrote that Collins ``again gives us Chicago, with Sally Rand at the Fair and offstage in a number of engaging scenes. Whoever dreamed that Sally could flip an omelet as easily as she waved those fans? John Dillinger, the Indiana farm boy who died in the alley near the Biograph Theater, and all the familiars of that almost endlessly fascinating career are part of this lively, well-documented and inventive story. This sequel to `True Detectives` is as ripping as the machine-gun fire it recalls.``

Zen & the Art of the Macintosh: Discoveries on the Path to Computer Enlightenment, by Michael Green (Running Press, $16.95). Despite the title, this book is not just for mackers--i.e., hackers who use the Apple Macintosh computer--though it was written, edited, designed, illustrated, typeset, laid out and printed on a Mac. Green is an artist, wildly imaginative and witty, whose adventure in computing began when he discovered that for writing and editing, typewriting is no match for word processing. When he set forth to buy a computer for that purpose, he discovered the Macintosh and its incredible graphics capabilities. He was hooked and soon captivated as he explored the machine and its interaction with his own mind. In 240 illustrated pages the reader is drawn farther and farther into Green`s adventure, and I do not think that just because it makes you want to run out and buy a Macintosh, which is bound to delight the people at Apple, the book should be kissed off as commercial propoganda.